


oh this town it's so electric

by dizzyondreams



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, brief mention of recreational drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Jean saw Eren Jaeger, he was sweating and wearing glitter under the pulsing lights of some club in Stockholm. As he watched the strong line of his body move to the beat of the music, the hazy green lights flash across his face, Jean thought: <i>he’s gonna be mine</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh this town it's so electric

The first time Jean saw Eren Jaeger, he was sweating and wearing glitter under the pulsing lights of some club in Stockholm. As he watched the strong line of his body move to the beat of the music, the hazy green lights flash across his face, Jean thought: _he’s gonna be mine_.

The second time, he was a lot more sedately dressed and Jean barely recognised him without the darkness and the E rushing through his bloodstream. Eren was just as bewitching in trousers and a jumper, and even more so after Jean learned his name and his phone number, in heavily accented English.

Eren worked in a coffee shop and had learned English through American movies. His favourite was Pulp Fiction and his eyes were greener in the daylight than through the smog of smoke in a club. Jean liked him even without sweat in his hair and glitter in his eyes, and Eren smiled a lazy smile at Jean when he asked if they could meet up.

They met at the same club with the unpronounceable name that Jean had first seen him in. Eren was wearing a thin white t-shirt and not so much glitter this time. Those big green eyes were lined with black, and his white smile lit up in the darkness. By the end of the night, Jean had the taste of Eren in his mouth and his fingertips were burning from his olive skin.

Touching Eren was like a drug. The way his long, wiry muscles moved under his skin, the way he pressed close, hot and sweating, to pass Ecstasy from his tongue to Jean’s. The feel of the little white pill dissolving into his bloodstream felt exactly like Eren’s fingers trailing down Jean’s chest. Jean just pressed closer and kissed him until the bitterness from the pill was replaced by the taste of Eren’s mouth.

The next time they went out, Jean wore the glitter, and they went to a club where nobody spoke English and nobody looked twice when Eren dragged Jean into the bathrooms to suck his cock on the grungy floor. Jean just stared very hard at a crude drawing of a woman with impossibly huge tits and tried not to come too quick into the wet velvet of Eren’s mouth.

They went out for coffee the morning after the night before, and the way Eren looked slumped over his mug made Jean’s hands twitch in his lap. Dying to pass a thumb over the dark rings around his eyes, to feel the freckles dusting his nose. They went for coffee more than they went out clubbing, and soon Jean stopped associating Eren with strobe lights and the smell of alcohol. Eren was dirty hair and chipped mugs of coffee and warm hands in the night.

Eren didn’t speak much. He knew a few choice words, like ‘fuck’ and ‘asshole’ and ‘foreign idiot’, which he used with vigour at every possible chance. He wrote Jean’s name right on the first go, however, which was more than enough, and his touch was electric. Something about him, the charisma of his body language, the way his broad hands were rough against Jean’s skin. Eren was hard to place, with his thick accent and his green eyes and his creaky apartment and creakier bed.

“You’re the best thing about Stockholm.” Jean had said once, his face buried in Eren’s hair. Eren smelt like sweat and smoke and spirits and it reminded Jean of the twisting lights of the nightclub and the way Eren’s mouth had looked in the neon soaked darkness.

Eren had given him a puzzled look, his big eyes huge with smudged eyeliner and the glitter in his lashes. “Have you seen the Palace?” He said in a rough voice, and Jean laughed so hard his stomach hurt and almost blamed it on the language barrier before he saw the corner of Eren’s lips quirk up. It only made him laugh harder and Eren had reached to push his hands against Jean’s cheeks to quiet him down before his roommates heard.

Jean liked when their fingers brushed when they passed a joint back and forth in Eren’s drafty living room. He liked when Eren pressed his cold toes to Jean’s thigh, and how they knocked knees under every table they ever sat at. He liked the way Eren twisted in the sheets when he fucked him, long limbed and lean, sighing and swearing in a language Jean had only just begun to pick up. He liked when Eren tilted Jean’s face towards the light with his blunt fingers to apply eyeliner to Jean’s waterline.

They ate in diners that washed Jean’s skin a sickly green and made Eren look pale and tired. The feel of coming down off whatever high they were on that night was depressing, and Eren grew quieter and quieter as the date on Jean’s return ticket home drew closer and closer.

The date on the ticket was March 21st, the start of spring. Jean found that oddly fitting, and pondered it before ripping up his ticket on the 18th. The start of new beginnings, and Jean found himself a new life beside a manic Swedish boy who he’d met only five months previous.

They still sat in depressing diners in the early hours of the morning, Eren still danced in glitter and neon lights, they still huddled against the cold in Eren’s creaky bed. Jean learnt Swedish, haltingly, badly, and scowled when Eren tipped his head back to laugh so wide Jean could see the fillings in his molars. They woke up together, dressed together, talked long into the night in a confusing mix of English and Swedish. Jean landed a job in a restaurant and struggled with the language, still. They watched American movies and touched each other as spring moved into summer and calls from Jean’s parents became less disappointed and more resigned. Possibly the thought of their shining only-son moving to Sweden to live with a boy wasn’t quite what they had planned, but that was what had happened.

It was worth it when in the dead of night Eren pressed his forehead to Jean’s and whispered, “I love you, _jag älskar dig_.” The way his voice sounded when he spoke his own language sent a wave of prickly heat down Jean’s spine, and he was reminded of Eren passing E to him from his own mouth. He kissed him, almost to try and chase the memory of Eren sweating under strobe lights and looking like sin incarnate.

“I love you.” He whispered back, and grinned when Eren did, looking a lot less like sin in Jean’s Star Wars t-shirt and nothing else.

His touch was no less electric, but Jean found himself comparing it to home a lot more now.

**Author's Note:**

> for erejean week and the prompt touch!! hope u enjoyed and hope the swedish is at least semi-accurate?? it means 'i love you' in case anyone didn't catch on....


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